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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29754645">Lie To Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mussings_over_tea/pseuds/mussings_over_tea'>mussings_over_tea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Said Do You Feel It When You Touch Me, Said Do You Feel It When You Cut Me [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tennis RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>( i mean Thanasi might be channeling a bit more than being a helping c ... i mean hand, Angst and Porn, Lingerie, M/M, MY BRAND, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, also, i know i said i wrote my final piece for this boy but i think this might be it, i mean the more kygs sits sprawled like a hoe the more slutty bottom he is, i've already dived deep into this mindset and got burned over and over again, the only use he is is for, this is my house of m tbh one final indulgence and self service, time to have that other indulgence shamelessly haha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:02:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29754645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mussings_over_tea/pseuds/mussings_over_tea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'You fell in love with a storm. Did you really think you would get out unscathed?' Nikita Gill</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thanasi Kokkinakis/Nick Kyrgios</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Said Do You Feel It When You Touch Me, Said Do You Feel It When You Cut Me [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lie To Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the corner of the club in Sydney, where they have been catching up, through sensual sounds of the beat, hypnotic shades of lights and disgustingly sweet aftertaste of the booze, Nick pushes Thanasi against the wall, away from the curious eyes of people dancing and drinking there.</p><p>Thanasi lies to himself, with persistent voice going meeker and meeker and the back of his head, that this isn’t what he came here for. That this isn’t what he’s been waiting for the entire night.</p><p>Nick’s wet, warm mouth signing this unspoken deal between them with tongue and teeth busy on the hollow of Thanasi’s neck.</p><p>“I bought you something, Kokki. A present.<em> Presents</em>. Plural,” Nick purrs, chuckling sound of a dirty secret, now around his ear. “Meet me upstairs, in your room. I wanna give it to you so bad,” luscious lick of a tongue weighs with a filthy promise on Thanasi’s skin with warm sweat and with a bite of Nick’s teeth, pulling on his earlobe as he sways away, into the dark entry of the corridor (Thanasi wonders, not for the first time, whether it’s darkness swallowing him or Nick emitting it), throwing one last look of an ache but demand.</p><p>As if Thanasi could not follow.</p><p>As if Thanasi ever said no to him.</p><p>As if they haven’t been meeting for quick, desperate fucks for the last few weeks.</p><p>And it’s still not enough. And it will never be enough.</p><p>*</p><p>He thinks he might have been running and the hall of the adjoined hotel stretched for miles, keeping him too far from Nick. Making his skin almost melt in longing for him.</p><p>The lads were betting on something to another round of shots. He didn’t even have to try that hard in coming up with an excuse. Plastered, enjoying themselves or used to this. Never asking any questions. Thanasi wonders, if ever suspecting anything.</p><p>Sometimes, it feels, he might be glowing with this nuclear want Nick triggers in him with one touch, one look or sometimes just presence. No longer just best mate, Thanasi needs to taste, have, devour. Hear him, see him, feel him, like he naively convinces himself no one does.</p><p>They can be casual. They can be familiar. They can banter like childhood friends knowing each other in and out do. But the undercurrent of this is always there. And it doesn’t take much.</p><p>Sometimes one message is enough and Thanasi reads it as anticipation of this. Him, stumbling through this place like a man blind, seeking release in the intimate of this beloved (God, what?) body, loud sounds he can drink from Nick’s mouth and skin almost breaking in submission to his touch. Thanasi reads it as Nick offering himself for all of this. Like it’s been too long. Like it always feels too long.</p><p>The light inside the room isn’t as much of a salvation for this fever rushing him here, as Nick is. The vision of him.</p><p>Jesus Christ.</p><p>He’s in Thanasi’s bed. Lying on his belly, with the longest stretch of legs, crossed and playfully swaying. Bare legs. Smooth legs. Fuck. it looks like he's shaved. Skin already pulled off layers. Raw. For the taking. He’s purposefully turned away from the door, making Thanasi have a perfect view on that ass of his, round and firm and mouthwatering.</p><p>(They had a spat about it that led to the most intense rimming session, when Thanasi stroke Nick’s backside in the aftermath of one of their Melbourne heated reunions, as they rested in one of the beds, breathing heavily, sweaty, buzzing with post coital serenity. Thanasi mouthed to the center of Nick’s back, then, hands possessive on his hips. “God, I love your ass. The quarantine did wonders to it, Kygsy.” “You saying I got fat, Kokki?” Nick snorted, half jokingly, casting him a suspicious gaze. To which Thanasi laughed heavily, the feeling of want still fresh, growing hard. “No. I’m saying I wanna eat you out all the time,” and proceeded to do just that, wet laps drowned in Nick’s obscene moans for more).</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>It’s not only this what makes him feel perched. That ass is clad in an tightly fitting pair of lace panties. Light vivid purple matching so well to  Nick’s natural caramel brown Thanasi forgets all about the cheap sweetness of colorful drinks they’ve just been gulping on and wants nothing else but to dive deep into the feast before him.</p><p>In any way he can.</p><p>In any way he’s allowed.</p><p>The fever has started. The fever burns. And the fever won’t burn out for a while.</p><p>Thanasi sometimes feels like maybe never.</p><p>That’s only a starter of it, though. Because as he manages to trail his eyes upwards with reluctance (Nick’s moving in a wriggly manner, his hips, provoking, inviting, lifting his ass up in lewd offering, the spikes of fever make Thanasi sees spots) he notices the rest of the buffet in front of him.</p><p>Nick’s wearing his neon retro jacket, the one he’s been teased about mercilessly before.</p><p> (“What the fuck is this glam pop, bro?” Nick would mock, even if there were few rides in his car, where Nick wasn’t quick enough to switch the Depeche Mode tracks in the radio afterwards.)</p><p>The one, Thanasi thought he’s lost somehow, left behind maybe in hastiness of their Melbourne fucking. It’s a perfect length on Nick now. The splash of colours made for him, too. Bringing out the lingerie on that skin with vivid, hypnotic, addictive display of temptations. It rides up and Thanasi imagines he could see Nick’s hipbones and his bellybutton and the way this jacket clothes him but feels somehow transparent, flashes of delicious layers underneath teasing you, drives Thanasi to full hardness.</p><p>He still manages to speak, voice not breaking under the heat of his want, yet.</p><p>“So, tell me, Kygs. Is my stolen jacket the present you promised? It’s a really extra way of giving it back.”</p><p>“Who said anything about giving it back?” Nick rolls over, now lying on his back, legs sprawled to flaunt some more and push Thanasi into spiral of lust, that feels like an iron ball now, preventing him from moving, not to disperse this, to keep this image forever.</p><p>He digs his sweaty fingers against the doors, as if holding for balance, as if holding for sanity.</p><p>“I can always just take it off you, right?” Thanasi still speaks, and even though it’s his voice he hears, the ringing in his ears makes it sound muffled.</p><p>Like he’s underwater.</p><p>Drowning.</p><p>Drowning.</p><p>Drowning.</p><p>Forgetting how to breathe.</p><p>That’s Nick’s effect. It’s always been. It always will be.</p><p>You don’t know sane. You don’t want to remember sane.</p><p>“You can, but where’s the fun in that, Kokki?” he tempers with the zipper now, slowly pulling it down and up, revealing patches of golden brown underneath, like an aroma of a dessert waiting for you after you indulge yourself in the main course. Nick’s legs open wider, no pause in the assault of senses for Thanasi, letting him see more layers to devour. The front of the panties barely covers him, so it’s like still a flash of  your reward, and yet looks to be there, for the taking. Consuming, gulping, chocking, devouring.</p><p>Him.</p><p>His essence.</p><p>To take him whole and to keep him forever.</p><p>To appease the fever.</p><p>Then it will burn out. Then it will stop.</p><p>(He always lies to himself. He’s always proven wrong afterwards).</p><p>“Do you like, Kokki?” Nick arches provocatively, palm trailing downwards, gliding on the slippery material of the jacket between his spread legs to tease himself over the lacy material. Eyes twinkling in jest but lust. Something in between. Something that’s always in his gaze shining with drunk arrogance.</p><p>“You had to be really gratuitous with the size to make them fit, did you,” covering under light chuckle is a choked whine stuck in his throat now, hands clasping the surface of the wooden door for balance, itchy with the need to take, have, pleasure, take, have, pleasure.</p><p>And never stop.</p><p>“More with this, baby,” he puts an end to his show, with the last stroke of his palm against visibly straining  over the rim of the underwear cock.</p><p>A promise hanging in the air with a whimper coming out like a sigh.</p><p>
  <em>It can be yours.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It will be yours. </em>
</p><p>Thanasi chases it almost like a taste with his parted mouth and almost doesn’t notice the movement. Nick’s lifting himself up, now, to reach by the pillow for a long, shiny, purple dildo.</p><p>He’s grinning showing it, now. His cut eyebrow lifted wickedly, like he’s really offering a birthday present to his best friend.</p><p>Thanasi wants to laugh at the choice of the colour. The flamboyance of it all. Even for Nick’s standards, this is knocking the breath of Thanasi.</p><p>That’s the fever. That’s the addiction. Of a never-ending pursue. You desperately want to pin him down, to see inside dark, mocking brown and see molten ache he always gets post orgasm, vulnerable, giving in, yours. Revealed. True. Raw.</p><p>But it’s also the thrill of rush. He’s always running somewhere, away or to, and there’s a whirlpool of sensations he picks up along the way, he needs to breathe, he needs to live. Hedonistic abandon of a madman? A scared boy? Or both?</p><p>But, this.</p><p>This is like smouldering Thanasi in the lava of ceaseless delirium that is them. That is wanting Nick. Chasing Nick. Loving (?) Nick.</p><p>“Should I be offended?” he commands himself for steeling that will and strength and focus in himself for over the years of fighting off injuries, diseases, slaps of fate, denying him, over and over again, until he learned to deny himself. Until he became this wall of endurance.</p><p>Now, too.</p><p>“I don’t know, Kokki, you tell me. Do you feel offended?” Nick smirks his way around the dildo with mouth unceremoniously wrapping around the tip without any preamble and sucking, and going down, almost to the bottom, eyes peering into Thanasi with feigned innocence, echoing the question.</p><p>
  <em>Do you?</em>
</p><p>He gulps to swallow loud /fuck/ burning his throat. Nick’s touch, Nick’s closeness the only medicine to this thirst now. But he watches, instead. Patiently. Growing in absolutely overwhelming need, but refusing to touch himself. Because he wants it to be shared. He wants it to be together.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Nick’s sitting lounged on the bed with legs bent and opened, that divine view of himself getting hard and wet, too. He bobs his head eagerly, eyes still looking back, now with flashes of that ache Thanasi chases, as he fucks his own mouth with a toy, like he would with Thanasi. Like Thanasi remembers he always does. Insatiable, greedy, suffocating them both.</p><p>Like he chases Thanasi back to satiate the fever.</p><p>One of his palms wonders inside the unzipped opening of the jacket, to reveal skin on his chest, to make the edge of the cloth slightly slip from his shoulder, showing collarbone (like he’s being unwrapped from layers, Thanasi wants to whine after him to stop, Thanasi needs to do this himself). But he’s too transfixed. Mesmerised. Nick’s coating the surface of the dildo with saliva and starts touching his chest too, pinching his nipples to hardness, with legs responding instinctively, opening wider with need growing pliant and filthy in both of them.</p><p>“Wait. Stop,” the sound coming from Thanasi cannot be concealed as anything but hoarse desperation, as he tries to take everything in, Nick’s teary gaze, his red, full mouth hungry for more, cheek hollowing to accommodate more of the length of the dildo and that jacket skidding more and more from one of his shoulders now, again, flashes of the reward for the taking, but still outside your reach.</p><p>Nick does. Takes the dildo out of his mouth, a trail of saliva follows, making Thanasi gulp on air.</p><p>Nick pouts, now. And it’s on purpose. And it’s a playfully innocent expression of someone denied something good and sweet and perfect for him.</p><p>It’s en expression speaking of succumbing seducer.</p><p>That disarms Thanasi instantly.</p><p>It’s an expression Nick can juggle so often to have them all on his strings. Chasing. Chasing, and never catching.</p><p>“You’re ruining my present, Kygsy,” the raspy sounds creating words he’s speaking echo so loud in the hotel room Thanasi feels more exposed than Nick is. Even though he’s fully clothed, keeps his hand clutched into a fist now, and tries to ignore the very physical ache inside him to go, to take, to have, to keep.</p><p>Quench the fever.</p><p>“I’m not, baby. You haven’t seen it fully, yet. Sit down. And enjoy it, ay?”</p><p>Thanasi moves to a nearby coffee table and perches there, legs made of liquid, like after 5 sets of a match. He’s physically stretched, to the brink, too full inside himself with overflowing lava. Like he’s already fucked Nick. Pliancy of his joints pleasantly soft now.</p><p>Jesus.</p><p>Now, leaning against the  tabletop, he can keep balance. He’s sure he won’t crumble to crawl onto his knees to Nick.</p><p>Nick is sprawled obscenely, playful licks of his tongue on the tip of a dildo as he draws Thanasi in with feverish eyes. <em>Don’t look away. Watch me now.</em> His fingers trail to his inner thigh (thick, juicy, Thanasi feels his mouth water, Thanasi knows he won’t be able to do everything he wants, he wants so much, he wants at once, it always feels like so much was left unfulfilled. That’s why they keep coming back to each other. There is always an ache left he needs to follow, a bite of the inside of his wrist, mouth caressing his hipbones or now teeth sinking into his inner thigh, to take him then and suck him dry). And he’s slipping the garment away: submitting seducer, opened, clenching, needy, waiting.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“Have you …. Did you…?” it’s difficult not to stammer. His tongue is heavy, words come out soft and meaningless, the table under him squeaks as he moves backwards to lean himself more against it. Swept away by a wave of uncontrollable desire now.</p><p>“Yeah. I did. I used my fingers, Kokki. I always do when I see you. And I always do when I think of you. Fingers and this,”  and he shows him. Drives the dildo inside himself, opening wider and arching beautifully, with one arm supporting himself, the other working his way into his entrance, more, deeper, where Thanasi wants to be. Where Thanasi needs to be. God. He thinks there are tears in the corner of his eyes now.</p><p>“Why?” he wonders if Nick will hear him. A whisper of a man stranded on a desert now. He wonders if Nick will understand the implication. Thanasi refuses to understand it himself maybe.</p><p>“Why what, Kokki?” Nick strains now, moving his hips, pushing the instrument more into himself, and trying to ride it, mouth opened in focus and effort as he keeps the panties on. Wet patch there is the open book of his. Like he writes confessions for Thanasi to read from his body. Precum on his stomach, moisture on his lingerie, thick letters making up the: <em>want you, so fucking much, please.</em> The bed creaks under the increased thrusts of his hips.</p><p>Somehow offensive to Thanasi.</p><p>It should be him. Inside. Taking, having, keeping.</p><p>“Why do you touch yourself when you think of me?” maybe under the wave of possessive bristle inside he does speak it out loud. A demand of confirmation. An admittance of his compulsion. To always chase Nick in the end. To always deceive yourself you can have him.</p><p>“No one does it like you, Kokki. Because I want you. Always. Because I miss you,” he sounds already wrecked, whimpers falling from his tongue Thanasi should be kissing away now. As he fucks himself relentless, rocking his body, dildo immersed in the pliant, warm body, the bow he’s shaped into makes the jacket completely slip of his arm now, perked nipples on his sweaty chest, throat arched to be marked, the crown of his cock leaving moisture on his belly, all of this a poem of belonging in Braille. For Thanasi to read with his mouth, with his fingers. Now. God.</p><p>He can’t wait any longer.</p><p>He moves.</p><p>Goes to Nick. On straight legs, even if his knees feel weak. Even if he should crawl to show reverence He doesn’t. Nick is a false god. Nick is lying. Nick is a seducer, his mouth made for tasting sweet as he spills his deceit to have them all chasing.</p><p>Thanasi stands now, in front of this god, to confront him, with fingers on his chin, lifting his head up. The other hand closes on Nick’s arm to stop his frantically growing movement of pleasuring himself.</p><p>And he does confront him.</p><p>“How do you always know what we want to hear, Nick?” the touch from demanding, turns to caressing. His cheek, rough stubble, his hair, like petting an obedient boy.</p><p>
  <em>It’s such a good act you put on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s such a stunning look you have. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You are on a stage but we are your puppets, are we. </em>
</p><p>Thanasi does call him Nick, too. Like calling the truth out. From beneath falsehood of names and performance.</p><p>“What? I don’t, I’m not,” Nick’s mouthing the palm on his cheek, with pleading reassurance. Eyelids fluttering, he’s suspended on the verge of pleasure and confusion now. Thanasi can deceive himself he is now the one holding the strings. His face has that aching expression. Almost there. Close to the truth. Of disarmed rawness. So maybe he did respond to his true name.</p><p>“Am I a rebound, then?” he pesters, even though Nick coaxes him with soft kisses on his palm, ankles hiking up on his thighs, to nudge him closer. Where he belongs.</p><p>The question reaches Nick and he looks up sharply. Offended or exposed? His eyes speak of ache. Does he master the ability to feign it, too?</p><p>“No, Thanasi. No. You’re…,” the words leave him. Because it’s that important or because he doesn’t have the lie prepared?</p><p>“I’m ..?” it’s ridiculous. He has Nick sprawled for the taking. Eyes shining with plea. What does he want?</p><p>This possessiveness. This confirmation. What for? They have never been anything else but this. Clashing in the stellar connection filling them up to the brink, and then Nick running away to another distraction, feeding his nuclear energy and Thanasi lying to himself than anything else will compare. A star twinkling meekly to fall into itself. When? Soon.</p><p>“You’re … You’re my Thanasi,” Nick whimpers to his hand, to his fingers, now gnawing on them, slipping in between his sinful lips, calves pulling Thanasi close, as he moans filthy at the deep intrusion inside him. Of an object. When he needs flesh. He needs warmth now.</p><p>Thanasi lets it go. That’s enough of a confrontation. The words (the truth, the act?) hangs between them uninterpreted. Until next time. Until it repeats. Fever burning out everything else but want for each other.</p><p>There’s one last pestering thought in him, fueling him up, making the fever sizzle.</p><p>Does Nick have it with her, too?</p><p>This pull.</p><p>This maddening need.</p><p>Does he come back to her like that too for his share?</p><p>It makes him blind for a moment. He yanks Nick’s head now backwards, revealing patches of neck to write possessive markings on. So he, does, as he speaks, in between teeth biting and claiming.</p><p>“What do you wanna give me, Kygs?” back to that other name. Back to that grey area of neither truth nor an act. “What’s your present?”</p><p>“Anything you want, Kokki,” Nick lets himself be mandhandled, bending for Thanasi, moaning louder with dido  now completely buried inside. Teasing him to the point of aching.</p><p>“I want you to take me into that mouth of yours and fuck yourself some more with that, okay?” Thanasi unzips the rest of the jacket now, keeping it on, even though it slips off Nick’s shoulders, invitingly.  That bow of a golden body to touch, always running hot. Like a volcano. So, Thanasi does. Traces patterns on Nick’s chest, to have him arch more.  Pulling on Nick’s cock over the rim of the panties, to swallow loud whine breathed straight into his mouth as he’s leaning closer, to see that look. Of ache. Of vulnerability. Of <em>mine.</em> In Nick’s eyes. “I want to be everywhere. Inside you. Like you asked me. Like I should,” <em>like you are</em>. Thanasi doesn’t add. The truth stuck in his throat like bitter poison.</p><p>“Yes, fuck. Yes. Please,” he sounds like a porn star. Thanasi pretends, it’s not too loud. It’s not too begging. It’s custom-made for what he needs to hear to want to ram into him and claim him over and over again.</p><p>He does.</p><p>Pulls himself out and slips into familiar mouth, swallowed by that volcanic heat first, as Nick gulps on him greedily and Thanasi conducts him this time, is not gentle with him. Fucks his mouth with fervor, the sweetness of it and the poison of it. The words spilled and crafted are now muffled sounds of cries, as Nick chokes on Thanasi, still opening up for more. Seducer submitted.</p><p>Thanasi sees his hand move between his own legs, too. Rocking himself over the edge, legs wrapped around Thanasi’s thighs. Legs opened to let him into his body. Eyes closed, though, hiding the ache, escaping with vulnerability.</p><p>Elusive, again. And again. And again.</p><p>Accentuated with few more thrusts of his hips into Nick’s mouth to stop everything. Before they stumble into oblivion. Before he has a chance to pretend he’s inside. Truly inside him. Claiming Nick. Catching Nick. Having Nick. Keeping Nick.</p><p>Lies. Lies. Lies. All lies.</p><p>He still leans close to him, to look into his eyes, to speak into his mouth. Unescapable truth. Unshared truth.</p><p>“I want you, Nick,” not some act, not some false name. Thanasi bears himself with this confession. It’s always been about it. Wanting to share tennis with him. Wanting to play computer games. Cooking together. Sometimes eating out. Swimming, hiking, sharing a ride. Going on holiday. Walking the dogs. Feeding each other breakfast in bed like stupid lovebirds. Singing on a road trip. Getting wasted and nursing each other back to health the day after, in one bed, in one room. Shared.</p><p>Thanasi’s fucking in love with Nick.</p><p>Thanasi’s fucking in love with a storm that rampages through a place to leave damage and never strike the same place twice.</p><p>Tough. Fucking pathetic.</p><p>Like a confirmation, Nick moans. “Yeah, Kokki. Fuck me, please,” nothing of reciprocation. His eyes roll back to his head, too, so Thanasi can’t even read it there. See it there. Because maybe it doesn’t exist.</p><p>That truth unshared that is not even the truth in the end.</p><p>He immerses himself in primal compulsion calling for him to finally take Nick, instead. Climbs the bed, lays Nick down, pulls out the thing buried deep inside him to Nick’s loud whine. angry, hurting, because this is what he’s reduced to in the end. This is what he will eagerly accept anyway. Anger makes him lash out, so he leans forward and takes the panties off Nick with his teeth, slips them down, and puts them in his pocket. (This is what he can safe keep. This is what he will safe keep. Not reciprocation. Not, the truth. A symbol of lust shared between them, Nick has with many others. Nothing special about them now. Nothing really truly shared.) Laps on Nick for a moment or two to hear him cry so nicely, this is not pretended, this is primal and true. At least he has that. Nick’s hedonistic oblivion for now. For these few precious seconds.</p><p>Grabs his legs, trails hands upwards the smoothest surface (he did shave, Thanasi must hurry because he could come now just from feeling the texture and having him laid out obscenely, calves on Thanasi's shoulders). But he's here to claim. So, he does. Fucks into him almost viciously, because Nick’s loose and opened and welcoming him eagerly already. Like he’s home. Back from that walk in the rain together. Or from shopping for summer barbecue. Or from a training together. Or from a travel away, but he’s back, he’s here now. Where he belongs.</p><p>No.</p><p>Nick welcomes him like he loses himself in methodical thrusts of bodies taking over, meeting Thanasi halfway, heels on his back, to have him deeper, to truly have him in that core, hands pulling on himself, Thanasi swats away, because he’s the conductor, he’s the claimer, he’s having the seducer submitted.</p><p>Before they cascade into sated aftermath together, Thanasi leans forward again, deepening the angle, the rawest cry from Nick’s mouth could be the sound of need, the sound of belonging, the sound of love. But isn’t. It’s a primal call for completion. For wanting to come undone. So Thanasi wants to steal this, have this. At least this. He does see the flash of vulnerability in pained expression on his face (it’s his for the taking, it is his to build the lies from for later), as Nick’s bending backwards to come all over his stomach in series of whimpered sighs.</p><p>Thanasi follows. Finds release. Returns home. Where he will always belong. Warm breaths between them as they collapse into each other make him realise though.</p><p>They didn’t even kiss this time.</p><p>They didn’t kiss.</p><p>Like a cheap fuck in a hotel room after a night of clubbing.</p><p>That’s them returning home.</p><p>That’s them belonging.</p><p>*</p><p>The aftermath is full of peace. Calm breaths. And smell of sex around them. Thanasi doesn’t feel the burn of fever. Or hurt either.</p><p>He’s blissfully empty.</p><p>That’s just the circle they do. Like a hit before you fall down the high. Until next time.</p><p>“You know, it’s not all, Kokki,” Nick rasps close by, throat perched and fucked, makes him sound even more hoarse than normally. Making Thanasi stir in attention in his half unmade pants.</p><p>Hope stirs in him, too. Of course he falls for that particular trap.</p><p>“More present for you, dumbo,” Nick pokes his head and lifts himself up, now naked, even though Thanasi is willing to leave the jacket with him. That piece of him. That stupid, naïve idea of <em>them</em> persevering. Nick dives out for something shiny from the pocket of the jacket now wrinkled and lying between them.</p><p>It’s a jewelry.</p><p>A pair of bracelets. A golden one and a silver one. With crown pedants on each.</p><p>Thanasi can’t speak for a moment. He hangs onto this hope now pouring inside him with force. Images of that life together swirling with swelling warmth. Like a fucking teenager. Like he’s always dreamed of, he thinks. Before he summons the will to chuckle dryly, to hide it all. Almost shuddering inside him like butterfly wings. Jesus Christ.</p><p>“Look who’s corny now. What is this, Kygs?” he shouldn’t have asked. He should have left this opening for himself where he can build false what ifs from his immerse hope.</p><p>“It’s you and me, Kokki. Kings of the world. Together. Always,” Nick doesn’t even ask, just clasps the silver one around Thanasi’s wrist, with words ringing in his ears. Like a confession. Like a confirmation. Like fertile ground for this hope to blossom into this home of theirs.</p><p>“You’re so cheesy, Kygsy,” he feigns playfulness, ruffles Nick’s crown of hair, pretends that watching him put his piece on doesn’t make him swell inside. The traces of tears in the corner of his eyes threatening to fall, as he lets himself be swept by the images of rings exchanged in the summer evening, on a beach, with them wearing jerseys, last rays of sunset reflecting on the silver on their joined fingers. In a life that never happened. In a life that never will. In togetherness that is not theirs to have, to keep, to be in.</p><p>“For you? Always,” there is a touch of a hand inside his hand now. Fingers laced together, as Nick watches the image of bracelets complementing each other with beaming pride. Takes a picture, then. Because in the end it is about the way it looks. It is about the stage and performance, right?</p><p>“Go to sleep, big baby and maybe I will fuck you in the morning some more,” Thanasi doesn’t burst his bubble, even though Nick’s fingers laced with his hurt. Even though the gesture means something else to him than it does to Nick.</p><p>Even though there is no truth for them to be in together.  </p><p>“Promises, promises,” Nick sounds muffled, yawning and drifting off.</p><p>Thanasi stays awake. And watches him.</p><p>To steal the vulnerability that is not his to take in the end.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Nick’s not in his bed in the morning.</p><p>Thanasi isn’t surprised at all.</p><p>They don’t see each other for the next few months either.</p><p>Nick got his hit. Or maybe his rebound. Or whatever the use Thanasi was for these blissful few weeks.</p><p>Nick is off to other distractions.</p><p>Thanasi doesn’t wear the bracelet again. Keeps it in one of his drawers. Pretends it’s not there. A bracelet that says:<em> his</em>.</p><p>For better and for worse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Important visual cues:<br/>THAT jacket: https://ibb.co/DQ7bNSy<br/>It is essential for y'all to know the specifics of the lingerie, too:  https://ibb.co/bK1dDCZ<br/>And, the King Shit bracelets (I think it's a one piece, but insert licentia poetica here): https://ibb.co/ZNck05v (also visual representation here of Kygs sitting sprawled like a hoe, again, and asking for things).<br/>Also recommended soundtrack to this, to have that full experience ;-): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbbnGPIMgOU</p></blockquote></div></div>
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